As for Sub-bee-kah-shee, the Spider, an’ Wah-wah-tah-see, the Firefly, an’ Sug-gee-mah, the brave Mosquito, Moh-Kwa, the Wise Bear, for a reward gave them an’ their countless squaws an’ papooses forever that fine swamp where Apuk-wah, the Bulrush, grows thick an’ green, an’ makes a best hunting grounds for the three little warriors who killed Kwa-Sind, Wah-bee-noh, an’ the Robin on that day when Moh-Kwa called them his enemies. An’ now when every man was at peace an’ happy, Moh-Kwa brought the Sioux together an’ re-named the Swallow “Thorn-Puller;” an’ by that name was he known till he died. “How many are there of these Sioux folk-lore tales?” asked the Jolly Doctor of Sioux Sam. “How many leaves in June?” asked Sioux Sam. “If our Great Medicine”--so he called the Jolly Doctor--“were with the Dakotahs, the old men an’ the squaws would tell him a fresh one for every fresh hour of his life. There is no end.” While the Jolly Doctor was reflecting on this reply, the Red Nosed Gentleman, raising his glass of burgundy to the Sour Gentleman who returned the compliment in whiskey, said: “My respects to you, sir; and may we hope you will now give us that adventure of The German Girl’s Diamonds?” “I shall have the utmost pleasure,” responded the Sour Gentleman. “You may not consider it of mighty value as a story, but perhaps as a chapter in former Custom’s iniquity one may concede it a use.” CHAPTER XX.--THE GERMAN GIRL’S DIAMONDS. It cannot be said, my friends, that I liked my position in that sink of evil, the New York Customs. I was on good terms with my comrades, but I founded no friendships among them. It has been and still is a belief of mine, and one formed at an early age, that everybody wears suggestive resemblance to some bird or fish or beast. I’ve seen a human serpent’s face, triangular, poisonous, menacing with ophidian eyes; I’ve seen a dove’s face, soft, gentle, harmless, and with lips that cooed as they framed and uttered words. And there are faces to remind one of dogs, of sheep, of apes, of swine, of eagles, of pike--ravenous, wide-mouthed, swift. I’ve even encountered a bear’s face on Broadway--one full of a window-peering curiosity, yet showing a contented, sluggish sagacity withal. And every face about me in the Customs would carry out my theory. As I glanced from Lorns to Quin, and from Quin to another, and so to the last upon the list, I beheld reflected as in a glass, a hawk, or an owl, or a wolf, or a fox, or a ferret, or even a cat. But each rapacious; each stamped with the instinct of predation as though the word “Wolf” were written across his forehead. Even Betelnut Jack gave one the impression that belongs with some old, rusty black-eagle with worn and tumbled plumage. I took no joy of my comrades; saw no more of them than I might; despised my trade of land-pirate--for what better could it be called?--and following that warning from “Josephus” was ever haunted of a weird fear of what might come.